Whiskey Lullaby
by Requiemforapasta
Summary: [OLD] Alfred is crushed when he discovers Arthur is seeing someone else. Left alone with a bottle of whiskey, some old photographs and a gun, one thing leads to another.. ((WARNING: trigger warning. contains suicide and mild drug/alcohol use))


_**Based on Whiskey Lullaby by: Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss** _

Alfred sighed as he tilted back the shot glass in front of him, draining what was left inside. It was all he could do to distract himself from all the anger and betrayal he felt. However, it seemed like no matter how much he drank, he just couldn't get him off of his mind. He hated him. He hated him so much. He knew how Alfred felt about him, yet he went on to start a life with another. He felt so betrayed, but.. no matter how angry he felt, no matter how much he hated him.. he still loved him. He loved him so much.

Alfred glanced down at the photo album that sat there in front of him, open to the first page. There, clumsily pasted to the page, was a photo of Alfred and Arthur, there arms over each others shoulders, smiling and laughing. He could feel his heart ache as he thought back to that very moment. He remembered when the two of them used to be friends. Best friends, to but it plainly. They hung out all the time. Hell, he knew the man his entire life. He's all he could remember.

He loved him. He was his entire world. _He_ was who he received a phone call from _every morning_ to tell him good morning. _He_ was the one who always yelled at him when he did the wrong thing. _He_ was what he thought about every night before he fell asleep. Hell.. he was what he dreamed about.

The very sight of the photo was enough to bring Alfred to the break of tears. Out of anger, he grabbed the photo from the page, ripped it out, and balled it up. He couldn't stand looking at him face anymore. It only brought sadness.

He flipped the page, then again. Again. Again- he quickly swiped the book from the table, it's pages scattering as it hit the floor. It was just _him_. _All of them._ Arthur, on every page, that was all he saw was his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that stuck out from the pages of the photo album on the floor.

It was a letter.

He swallowed. He knew every word on the page by now. He'd read it so many times, over and over, just to make sure he hadn't misread it the time before. This was the letter that started this nightmare. He reached down and pulled the paper out from between the pages.

He gripped the page tightly, preparing himself to read it. There was no harm in checking again, right? He misread it, he reassured himself. He knew he had. There was no way Arthur could do this to him. He blinked a few times, attempting to right his vision through the fuzz of the alcohol.

_Alfred,_

_I'm getting married. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I'm afraid it's for the best. Our relationship cannot be anymore than what it is now. Just as friends. I hope this doesn't change anything between us. You will always be very special to me. _

_I will always love you Alfred. Please Understand,_

_Arthur_

He stood from his chair, angrily kicking and knocking over the empty whiskey bottles that sat on the floor. _I hope this doesn't change anything?!_ What the hell was that suppose to mean?! How could you think that nothing would change?!

Alfred grabbed the shot glass from the table and tossed it against the wall, shattering it to pieces. He bit his lip as he felt tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

He collapsed onto his bed and began to sob, gripped his hair tightly. He felt so hurt. He felt like there was no end to the pain that he felt. Even if he chose to move on, the image of Arthur would forever be burned into the back on his mind. He knew there was no getting around that.

He grabbed the pillow that rested on the edge of his bed and buried his face into it, sobbing. He just couldn't stop the continuously flowing tears that began to burn his eyes. He just couldn't do it.

...That was it.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't live with this feeling of betrayal. This had to end.

Alfred slowly rose his face from the pillow and locked his eyes on his top desk drawer. He rose to his feet and slowly dragged his feet over to it. He stood there for several minutes before he finally reached out a trembling hand to open it. Inside the wooden drawer, laid a handgun. It was brand new and had never been touched. He sniffled and grabbed it. He checked, and saw that it was loaded. This was it. He had made his decision. He was going to end this tonight.

He laid the gun on top of his desk and fumbled around for a pen and a piece of paper. He clumsily scribbled something down onto it before dropping the pen. The writing wasn't written neatly but it was definitely readable. The pen marks were just a bit shaky due to his shaking hands. He positioned the paper so that it could be seen by anyone who entered the room. Good. Everything was ready.

Alfred looked back to the gun on the corner of the desk and picked it up. This was it. All the pain he felt was going to disappear. He slowly sat down on the foot of his bed and stared down at the silver object in his hand. It almost looked out of scale to his hands, of coarse, it could just be the alcohol.. or perhaps it was the fear that was causing him to hesitate. Alfred sniffled as he rose the gun to his head.

No more pain.

No more sadness.

No more suffering.

He took a deep breath as he squeezed the trigger.

-  
Matthew jumped as he heard the sound of a gunshot coming from upstairs. His heart seemed to stop in his chest. Could that be...

Alfred

Matthew had come to check on Alfred, considering the had missed the past few meetings that were held. He would have come earlier, but he remembered that sometime Alfred would skip simply because he didn't want to show up. However, three meetings in a row was out of character for Alfred. Something had to have been wrong with him.

And it seemed that Matthew had guessed correctly.

As he heard the loud shot from above, Matthew hurried up the staircase, tripping once or twice in the process. He kept praying that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Alfred was just fine. Alfred was oka-

Matthew stopped dead in his tracks when he stepped foot in the doorway to Alfred's room. He saw his brother sprawled on his side, his face in his pillow and a gun he gripped in his hand. Blood was splattered on the wall behind the bed and a puddle was beginning to form on the pillow underneath his head.

"Al... Alfred...?"

Matthew mustered up enough courage to walk over to his bedside.

"Alfred...? A-Alfred..?!"

It took a moment for what he was seeing to sink in. Matthew's eyes widened and he began to shake him.

"Alfred! H-Hey!" he shouted, a crack in his voice. He cried as he looked down at the bloodied face of who was once his brother.  
"Please.." he gripped Alfred's shirt, looked down at the floor, and cried. "please... wake up..."

Matthew squeezed Alfred's hand and placed it on his chest. After a moment, he stopped to wipe his face with his sleeve. Alfred was dead. This was just beginning to sink in. It was a fact that was nearly impossible to accept.

What could have possibly caused him to do this? Did he not have a happy life? He was always smiling, laughing, and joking. To the point of it being obnoxious, actually. What could have possibly happened to reduce this happy, smiling nation to a bloody mess?!

As he took a step back from his brothers corpse, he noticed a note on the edge of Alfred's desk. It read,

_I'll love him until I die_

_Alfred_

-  
The wind was blowing steadily, causing the flowers that sat in front of the gravestone to sway slightly. Up above those flowers, engraved into the stone, was the name of _Alfred F Jones_.

The grave was apart from the rest of the rest in the cemetery. It was up on a hill, underneath a weeping willow tree. It looked so peaceful.  
Arthur stood there in shock. It had been three weeks since.. Alfred had taken his life. How could that be. This couldn't have been his fault.. could it? No matter what anyone would tell him, he wouldn't believe them. This _was_ all his fault. If he hadn't kept his distance, if he hadn't given him that note, if he would've kept his _damn_ mouth shut! He held onto himself uneasily. He couldn't cry, not here.

Arthur sighed as he knelled down and sat a rose down on top of the other flowers. the grave stone was decorated with care. There were two candle that sat on top and, aside from the flowers left by others, there were rose petals scatters around the grass.

Arthur sighed once again.

"...Alfred. I'm sorry. I never wanted you to end up like this." he said quietly before standing to his feet and turning around. Before walking away, he whispered under his breath. "I'll always love you."

-  
A month had passed now, and Arthur sat on the sofa with a glass of wine in front of him and a bottle that was almost empty. He'd lost count of how many glasses he'd had, but he didn't care. He just wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything, how he kept his distance from Alfred, how he didn't tell him how he felt... how because of him, Alfred took his own life.

It wasn't long before the glass in front of him was empty and he was pouring the last of the wine in the bottle. He laid back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades spin around and around. He thought back to the day he first met Alfred.

He was just a little kid back then. Arthur was much younger himself. He remembered when he saw him, he was happily playing in a field. He remembered how he fought with Francis about who the boy would belong 's no way that back then he would have ever guessed that any of this would happen.

What could he have done differently? Was there anything he could have done to prevent it?... yes, there is. Just four little words would have prevented all of this.

I love you, Alfred.

He really did love Alfred. He loved him with all his heart, to the point that it ached at the very mention of his name. He was just so terrified of what would happen as a result. He was so scared that Alfred wouldn't feel the same way he had. He was scared that their friendship would be ruined if he made a move to be more than just friends. He felt so foolish now.. Those words,_ those four little words_, were all Alfred really wanted to here. But now he was gone, and it was far to late.

A voice broke the silence of the room.

"Arthur, mon chère?" a voice called. It was Francis. After a moment, his head peaked into the living room, where Arthur sat in the darkness. "What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing." Arthur answered quietly.

"Are you alright? Why are you sitting out here in the dark?"

"I'm alright." Arthur sighed and sat down his glass. "Sorry If I've been worrying you.."

"Come to bed, mon amour. It's getting late."

Arthur sat there a moment before nodded slightly. "Alright.. just a moment."

Francis nodded, but still looked a bit concerned for the englishmen as he turned and walked back into the bedroom.

Arthur sat there for a moment longer before getting up and deciding to go to bed.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. Not in the very slightest. He barely slept a wink. If he did manage to dose off, his dreams were filled with Alfred's face and those dying words that were written on that damn note."I'll love him until I die"

Arthur sat there, repeating those words in his head, over and over again.

"I'll love him until I die.." he whispered to himself.

"What was that?" Francis asked cheerfully as he walked into the room. He was dressed as if he were going to a meeting or somethi-... oh, yes, that's right.. there was a meeting today, wasn't there?

Arthur looked up at Francis, then looked back down. "Oh, nothing.. just talking to myself."

Francis's smiled faded quickly into a look of concern. "What is going on?"

This caught Arthur a bit by surprise. He swallowed. "Nothing. What are you talking about?"

"You've been acting more than a bit unusual lately. Tell me what's going on." he said in an all too serious tone that Francis never used. It was almost frightening.

"There is nothing going on, I promise. Please don't worry about me."

"You promise?"

"Promise."

Francis stood in the doorway a moment before finally sighing. "Alright." he resumed his smiled. "So, are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

He frowned again. "The meeting!"

"Oh, yes.. I'd forgotten about it." he paused. "I don't think I'm going."

"You're not going? Why not?"

"I just... don't feel to well, that's all."

"Oh, mon pauvre chère! Are you sick?" Francis said worriedly.

Arthur thought a moment and decided to go along with that. He faked a small cough. "I think I may be coming down with a cold is all."

"Would you like for me to stay here and take care of you?"

"Oh, no, that's quite alright. I'm just fine."

Francis sighed. "If you say so." he said as he walked over to the door. "I'll be back soon."

Arthur nodded, continuing to stare off into space.

Francis took one last look at him over his shoulder before turning around and leaving the house.

Little did he know that this was the last he'd ever see of him.

Arthur had finally made his decision. He was finally going to free himself from this guilt. he had decided. He was finally going to see Alfred again.

He stood up from the chair he sat in and walked into the bedroom. As he walked through the doorway, on the table on his side of the bed sat a bottle of whiskey. Arthur walked over to the drawer and opened it. Inside was a bottle of pills. He sighed as he grabbed the bottle and sat it next to the whiskey on the dresser. Before closing the drawer, he glanced down, nearly bursting into tears then and there. There, inside, was a photo of Alfred. Arthur grabbed the photo and sat it on the bed before closing the drawer.

He sat down on the bed, next to the photo. He reached up to wipe away the tears beginning to fall. He bit his lip to keep himself from crying. There was no need to cry anymore. All the pain would soon be gone. This would be painful at first, but behind all the pain would be bliss.  
Arthur popped open the lid and poured all the remaining tablets into his hand, then tossed the bottle to the floor. With one last chance to change his mind, he quickly threw his head back, tossed the pills into his mouth, and swallowed. He then grabbed the whiskey on the table and drained what was left of the bottle to wash the medicine down.

Now he just had to wait.

It hadn't even been a few minutes before he began to feel lightheaded and dizzy. He swallowed thickly, preparing himself for what was soon to come. His vision was growing foggy and he began to feel very sleepy. He exhaled softly, giving into the sensation.

After a moment, his eyes widened, groping at his chest as a sharp pain shot through it. He began to gasp for air as his lungs felt as if they were shrinking. He clutched tightly to the fabric of his uniform as he feel to the floor, coughing and gasping. It was too late to change is mind now.

Arthur threw his arm onto the bed, attempting to pull himself up. He gripped the comforter tightly as he pulled himself onto the bed. He rolled over onto his side, crying from the pain. He grabbed the photo and held it close to his chest. He'd be with Alfred in just minutes, he reassured himself. Just bare with the pain a bit longer.

He took deep breaths, slowly feeling the pain begin to vanish, and the feeling of fatigue began to return. This was it. He smiled as he closed his eyes. _I'm coming Alfred._

Francis sighed out of frustration as he closed the door behind him. The meeting had been exhausting. It was just as loud and chaotic as ever, just like always. Well, at least he was home. Now he could spend the rest of the day with Arthur. Oh yes, speaking of Arthur, he needed to check up on him to see if he felt any better. Where could he be?

"Arthurr~?" he called. Not seeing him in the living room, he figured he was probably in bed.

"Arthur, mon chéri?" he peaked his head into the bedroom. "Are you feeling any better?"

He saw Arthur laying with his back towards the door. Francis assumed he was sleeping. He lightly skipped into the room and went around to the other side of the bed. "Arth-"

He froze. He was taken back by the empty medicine bottle and the bottle of whiskey. "...Arthur?" he gently shook his shoulder. As he took a closer look, he didn't appear to be breathing. He moved closer to his face. "Arthur...?" he said fearfully. He pressed his ear against his chest, heart stopping when he heard no heartbeat. He fearfully pressed a hand against his neck. He swallowed. No pulse.

"A-Arthur..? mon amour?!" He shook him violently. "Y-You can't be dead..!" his voice cracked.

Arthur just laid there, motionless. He really was dead. Francis noticed the photo he held close to his chest. The photo was of Alfred.  
So that's what had been going on. Arthur felt that Alfred's death was his fault, so in an attempt to rid himself of the guilt... he was reduced to committing suicide.

Francis took a step back, his eyes locked on the corpse of his former lover. He was really gone. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. Would this have happened if he had been here for him? Could he have stopped him? If only he knew that that was what was bothering him.. maybe he could've talked to him.

But... there was nothing he could do now.

-  
There was now two grave stones that sat under the weeping willow. The one on the the left read _Arthur Kirkland_ while the one of the right read _Alfred F Jones_.

Matthew and Francis stood in front of the two graves, both dressed in black. Matthew stood close to Francis, leaning his head against his arm. Francis wrapped his arm around his and stroked his head in an attempt to comfort him. He knew he was hurt by all that had happened. The death of two of the most important figures in his life. His brother and the man who acted as a father to him for half of his life.

Of coarse, Francis couldn't say he wasn't deeply hurt as well. The two of them were extremely important to him too..

Francis hadn't noticed that Matthew had started crying, holding onto his arm and crying into his shoulder. Francis turned to him and wrapped his arms around him, holding him closely. He tried his hardest not to cry as well.

In that moment, Francis froze where he stood, staring off into the distance. Matthew noticed how stiff he became. He wiped his eyes and looked up at him. "...what is it?" he said softly. After he didn't answer, Matthew followed Francis's eyes in the direction he was staring. When his eyes meet with the target, he froze as well.

It was Alfred and Arthur. It was defiantly them, but, their figures were transparent to the sight. Alfred was seen standing at the top of a hill, staring of into the distance with Arthur standing behind him. Arthur place a hand on his shoulder, causing Alfred to turn around. Once their eyes meet, Alfred smiled widely. After a moment, Alfred took Arthur's hand.. and the two of them walked over the hill top and vanished into the air.

The two of them were happy now.

Francis smiled. It made him happy to know that they were happy. Francis looked down at Matthew, who's eyes were wet with tears.. but he smiled as well.


End file.
